


Butterflies & Hurricanes

by RuinNine



Series: Cinema Verse [6]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: A+ Parenting, Angsty Schmoop, Family Feels, Half-AU, M/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuinNine/pseuds/RuinNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergio had been prepared for a backlash, but he didn't expect it from within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterflies & Hurricanes

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, many thanks and kisses and <3s to lumaste who patiently and kindly deals with all my frequent nervous breakdowns and who also betaed the first version of this story. I reworked many scenes, though, and decided to post it as a surprise. I hope there are no new mistakes in there and that I didn't make it worse. ;)
> 
> So be warned, it's partly unbetaed and I'm still not a native speaker. But no more talking now, I really hope you enjoy the newest part of the cinema verse. :)

— † —

 

 

It wasn't a conscious decision. It wasn't as if he was homophobic or anything. He simply didn't have an opinion on the matter. Whenever a reporter asked if there were gay footballers in La Liga (and each and every one of them got that question sooner or later) and what he thought about any possible suspects, he'd shrug and wait for the journalist to move on to the next question. In to the right ear, out to the left. He knew there was this one guy in MLS, but that commotion had died down already, and it was also very far away, out of his field of sight and concern. If that guy was happier now, good for him. Whatever.

 

Even when Sergio plunged the whole football world into a frenzy when he kissed his husband on the pitch, he had stayed where he was, between the group that gathered around the couple to heap congratulations and wolf whistles on them, and the group that kept their distance, muttering between themselves. He'd stayed and watched, and then he'd turned and gone to the dressing room. It was none of his concern.

 

Until today. He should have seen it coming, if he's honest with himself. But he didn't. He really didn't. It's a fact. So when Sergio tries to win the ball from him in a simple training match, curling his body around him from behind to steal the ball away from his feet, he reacts purely on instinct.

 

“Don't touch me,” he shouts and jumps away from Sergio as if the defender had just assaulted him with an electric shock.

 

Only when the sounds of the match cease around him and the ball rolls out of play unchallenged, does he realize what he just said. Even though he doesn't want to (all he wants right now is for the ground to swallow him whole), he turns back to Sergio who's staring at him with wide eyes, all the tension gone from his body in shock. He crosses his arms in a nervous and embarrassingly defensive gesture, but Sergio doesn't start shouting, doesn't punch him like he thought he would. The defender just stands there, looking at him with such a helpless hurt in his eyes that he has to avoid his gaze. There's movement right next to him, and all of a sudden, he notices the stares of all his teammates, some surprised, some calculating, some downright angry. And then the manager appears at his elbow and wordlessly guides him away.

 

He sends a quick glance back to Sergio whose dark eyes are still following him, but he's distracted when Cris winds an arm around his shoulders and pulls him around to focus again on the training match. There's as much friendship and support in the gesture as there is a clear message that says he just pushed himself into the cast out zone. From Cristiano, that definitely hurts the most, because he's always been the football hero he looked up to. He raises a hand to rub at his forehead. Just what he didn't need right now.

 

“Isco! Are you even listening?”

 

He snaps back to Carlo's disappointed face just in time to witness a deep sigh. “If you have a problem with Sergio, I must know.”

 

He frowns. “No, I don't- I mean, I just...” He falters and then he's crossing his arms again. It's a habit he's going to quit once this is over. Definitely. “I didn't want him to...”

 

“To touch you, like you said?”

 

He can't help but squirm. “No, I... no.” He gives up. There's no denying what he said, everyone heard it loud and clear. “I don't know.”

 

Carlo sighs again, and he suddenly knows he's in deep shit. “Isco,” he says, and it already sounds like a dismissal. “I need my players to be able to play together, as a team, and to support one another. On _and_ off the pitch. If you don't think you can do that, I can't run the risk of fielding you. Do you understand?”

 

But I don't have to touch him, he wants to say. There will be twenty metres between him and me in an actual game. But he knows how stupid that sounds, so he merely hangs his head and nods.

 

“Maybe you should go home early today. Think about what happened, and when you come back for training, I'm prepared to see a different attitude. Alright?”

 

That's Carlo. All manners and nice words, but it's clear as day how disappointed he is, and how _prepared_ to take action and actually leave him out of the squad if he doesn't change his attitude. As if there was anything to change. He just... wasn't comfortable with the idea of Sergio touching him like that. Simple as that. Still, he knows an order when he sees one, so he just nods again and trudges off towards the showers.

 

 

— † —

 

 

When he arrives for training, it is with immense relief that he listens to the manager explaining the absence of Cris and Sergio who are out of town to promote some Real charity business. Apparently, it's about building football courts for kids in poor districts. Or something along those lines. He can't really pay attention, because his relief is short-lived as he takes in the sidelong glances of his teammates while Carlo moves on to training instructions. They're either cold or sympathetic, and he wonders if he's been stupid, thinking this could blow over in a single day. Judging by the dark brooding glares of his captain, at the very least, it might take a while.

 

As they're going through their routines and drills, the normally relaxed and playful atmosphere is strangely subdued. There's none of the usual banter and playful teasing, and only the occasional instructions of the managing staff can be heard in the focused silence. But that doesn't worry him as much as the fact that, during the training match, not a single pass is sent towards him. Still, he is nothing if not a fighter, and he's used to working his way into the starting eleven, so he keeps his head level and his step light. He's the first to the showers and the first out of the dressing room.

 

It is only when he's reached the solitude of the hallway leading away from the dressing rooms that he allows himself a short moment of freaking out. He's never had it easy at Real Madrid – no one does – and he had to work hard to get accepted in the first place. If he's honest with himself, he is scared shitless that he might have destroyed all that hard work with one careless sentence. So he'll have to make it up somehow. He's got no idea how, but he has to. He's finally living his dream, and he'll be damned if he'll let it go down the drain.

 

If you want to be accepted into Real Madrid in the long run, you'll have to stay on the good side of certain people, and Sergio is definitely one of them. So he'll have to mend the cracks somehow he has created between himself and the team – and Sergio. But the latter is a task he'll set aside for another day. Right now, he'll focus on a more feasible challenge.

 

It takes him a moment to gather the courage, but he nonetheless falls into step next to Fábio on the way to the parking lot. He ignores the careful look he's being given and just starts talking. “What should I bring to the party tonight?”

 

“Tonight?”

 

“Your belated birthday party? It's tonight, isn't it?”

 

“Oh.” Fábio musters half a smile. The other half is... clearly not something Isco wants to think about. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Tonight.”

 

The silence stretches and he can feel his face heating up. Great. “So, should I bring anything?”

 

Fábio gives a nervous laugh and scratches his neck as he looks anywhere but at Isco. “No, I got everything. Thanks.”

 

“Okay.” See, that wasn't so bad. “See you later then.”

 

“Sure.”

 

 

— † —

 

 

He abides by all the party rules he knows: he arrives intentionally late, he brings booze even though Fábio said he shouldn't, and most of all, he sticks to people he doesn't know a.k.a. people who are not part of the football circus. At first, it works out brilliantly. Apart from the kind of tense greeting he got from Fábio who opened the door and quickly waved off his well-practiced apology, he manages to hold a few very interesting conversations with his teammate's friends and family members without attracting any unwanted attention. From what he heard, everyone who might know what happened in training is currently outside, engaged in a football match with the gathered kids. Fine by him.

 

It's only when there's a lull in conversation and he finds himself nursing his third smoothie by himself (no need to piss off the manager further by violating the diet rules) that he feels the pull towards the game. It's his profession after all. With a deep sigh, he decides he'll have a quick look. Just a quick one, and then he'll retreat back inside. He's prepared to go home early anyway, probably as soon as the match ends and the players crowd the house and wrap him up in uncomfortable silences and icy looks.

 

He's even lucky. The football match is still going strong when he walks out onto the patio, and neither the players nor the spectators pay him any heed. The kids have retreated to the sidelines, obviously exhausted, sipping lemonade and cheering for their respective dads. He recognizes Luka's son, and Fábio's daughter of course, as well as Cristiano Jr. The little boy obviously preferred a birthday party over one of his dad's business trips and probably begged to stay home with the nanny. Isco can't help but smile when the boy shares his lemonade with a young girl that accepts it with a laugh and a pat to the head. He's seen her before, he knows it, but he can't place her. And then she turns so he can see her face more clearly, and the resemblance strikes him immediately. Sergio's little daughter. But if she is here... He quickly scans the watching crowd, and when he can't find him there, he turns to the football players.

 

And there he is. Sergio's husband. If someone had asked him to describe him before, he'd have been at a loss, for he'd only seen him once from a distance at the Estádio da Luz (and what a crazy night that had been – to this day, he only remembered half of it) and on pictures in passing. But, seeing that he knows everyone else on the makeshift pitch in Fábio's backyard, he remembers him as soon as he sees him. And he looks completely different from how Isco has pictured him in his head.

 

He is tall (probably taller than Sergio, _certainly_ taller than Isco) and well-built, for a start. Despite his slender frame and the fact that his clothes aren't overly tight, the hard-earned muscles are clearly there. His darkblond hair is short and barely touches the tips of his ears, and even though it is well-groomed, it isn't styled in any way. The same can be said about his clothes. Black jeans, black sneakers, dark blue polo shirt – there's nothing flashy about it. In other words, he doesn't look feminine at all. In fact, he doesn't look any different from the other players, neither in appearance nor in the way he acts on the field.

 

It is clear he doesn't play regularly, but he makes up for it with natural grace and enthusiasm. He doesn't shy away from tackles or any physical contact whatsoever, and neither do his fellow players. They're either better at hiding their true thoughts or had a miraculous change of heart, Isco thinks. The latter seems to be a bit far-fetched, so he settles for the first. Yes, they must be good actors, better than him anyway.

 

He suddenly realizes he's been staring at Sergio's husband for a few minutes now, so he looks down at his smoothie while a deep blush is staining his cheeks. A quick look around tells him that no one noticed. Thank God. He can imagine what Sergio would have to say about that. There's a bout of hollering, and he risks another glance towards the pitch. Marcelo has brought Sergio's husband down with a tackle and the two of them roll around on the grass, laughing as they catch their breath, but before they can recover, the horde of kids jumps up and – accompanied with lots of squealing – lunges at them like a pack of hungry wolves and buries them in a wave of children. Somehow, it evolves into a massive fake-brawl between the players and the kids which eventually breaks down into a game of tag.

 

Sergio's husband seems to be the favourite victim of the children, because he's always in the thick of things, racing after shrieking kids and getting hunted in return. Isco can't help but wince in sympathy when he gets caught again and tumbles to the ground with two kids clinging to his knees. The children beg him to get up and keep playing, but he laughs and shakes his head, waving them off. They give disappointed shouts and pout at him, but he doesn't budge, so they shrug eventually and race off to find another prey. Only Sergio's daughter stays behind and bends down to give her stepfather a hug and a sloppy kiss right on the nose.

 

Isco smiles absently at the adorable display, but it freezes as he watches Sergio's husband get up and dust off his clothes before heading straight for the patio – and therefore straight for him. To be recognized as Sergio's homophobic teammate (there's no way in hell he didn't tell his husband about the incident at training) is the last thing he needs, so he quickly and inconspicuously retreats into the – thank God – empty kitchen.

 

His relief over his out of sight solitude lasts only about a minute, though, because suddenly there are voices in the corridor, and they're aiming straight for the kitchen. Before he can properly evaluate whether hiding in the pantry is childish and not in the least appropriate behaviour for his age group, it's already too late. He looks up just in time – probably wearing a completely unnecessary expression of guilt – to watch Guti, of all people, appear in the doorway (where the hell did he come from?). And of course, he's not alone. Of course, Sergio's husband is with him.

 

It's obvious the two of them have been laughing about one of Guti's jokes, but it dies as soon as they see him. While Guti's expression makes a seamless jump from glee to anger, Sergio's husband simply stops laughing and his face is instantly closed off, giving nothing away, and Isco catches himself wondering (hoping) if he even knows what happened.

 

“I didn't think you'd show your face, _Isco.”_

 

The way Guti stresses his name doesn't bode well, and he thinks he doesn't have a single chance against the two clearly taller (and stronger) men if they decide to level him here and now. So he swallows the 'Why shouldn't I?' that's waiting on the tip of his tongue and just waits for Guti to continue. Who knows, maybe he'll get away with a verbal bashing. But then Guti takes a step forward, and Isco's whole body tenses in preparation for the fight that's surely going to follow. But then Sergio's husband steps between them and holds Guti back by the shoulder.

 

“Woah, wait.”

 

He tightens his hold until Guti reluctantly stops glaring at Isco and turns to him instead. “What? I just thought the little bugger might benefit from feeling harassed himself. Maybe he'd develop common sense then.”

 

Sergio's husband looks decidedly unimpressed and his voice is serious and calm (and it lacks that gay lilt, too, Isco notes absently). “No harassing while I'm around. In fact, no harassing at all.” He lets go of Guti's shoulder, but he still looks ready to break up a fight. “I'll talk to him, okay?”

 

Guti crosses his arms and resumes glaring at Isco. It takes him a moment to realize what Sergio's husband is implying. “Wait, you mean...”

 

“Thank you for your support, but I think this is a rather private matter.” He glances at Isco. “It's been public enough and I'm sure both parties would like to discuss this without any further spectacle.”

 

For a few seconds, Guti doesn't react, but then he huffs and raises his hands in surrender. “Okay. Whatever you say. I'll stay within earshot.”

 

That's clearly a warning for Isco who watches him go with a weird sense of anxiousness. He wonders how Sergio's husband intends to deal with this matter. If his rejection of violence is only a farce to lure him into a false sense of security, he's doomed. He is no match for him alone, either. But when the door finally closes behind Guti, Sergio's husband releases his breath in a sigh and turns to Isco with a small smile.

 

“I'm sorry for that.” He casually offers his hand. “I believe we haven't met. I'm Fernando.”

 

Isco can only stare at his outstretched hand for a moment before he remembers his manners (and his mission to soothe the stir he created) and quickly takes it. Fernando's grip is dry and strong, but not uncomfortable. “Isco,” he murmurs.

 

There's another smile and for the first time, Isco notices the freckles that are splattered all over his skin. It gives him a soft edge, but his eyes, on the other hand, seem too old for his young face. They betray a quick and intelligent mind and Isco reminds himself that he has to be careful.

 

“Now, you and I both know that, if we don't spend at least a few minutes talking, Guti will hunt you down himself and demand explanations. So it's either that or-”

 

“Or what?” He hates how defensive his voice sounds. It certainly doesn't help that he has to look up at Sergio's husband, who doesn't even blink at his aggressive tone.

 

“Or you let me ask one question. You answer, you can go, and I will keep Guti off your track for the rest of the night.”

 

Isco looks down at his shoes as he contemplates the offer. Sure, being saved from Guti's wrath would be great (he admires him as a football legend alright, but boy, does that guy have a glare), but answering a question... He doesn't feel like he's up to questions like 'Why do you hate gay people?' or 'Why does touching Sergio weird you out?' and he isn't sure he even has an answer to that. But then again, he didn't say he had to be honest. Yeah, it'll be fine. “Shoot.” Maybe he should just deny everything, say it was a misunderstanding.

 

“Do you miss home?”

 

Isco can only blink for a moment. “What?”

 

Fernando watches him closely, but there's a thin smile tugging at his mouth. “You're from Andalusia, right? Sergio still misses it like crazy, so I was wondering if there was something special about the place. I've always been living in Madrid, so I wouldn't know.”

 

Isco isn't stupid, he can see the trap coming from a mile away, but the question somehow stirs something in him. Somehow, he doesn't have access to the bored, inattentive answer mode he usually slips into whenever some reporter asks him one of the three questions they seem to learn at the sportswriter seminar. It's been a while since someone asked him about home, and the unexpected question evokes images of busy colourful streets, of his mother's smile and the sea. He sighs quietly. The sea.

 

So he sets out to defend it. “It's the best place on Earth, simple as that.”

 

 

— † —

 

 

“I prefer the movie selection of the Carbonado, to be honest. But they have a shitty-”

 

“Sound system, I know.”

 

They share a laugh and Isco takes a sip of his newest smoothie. “Is yours any better?”

 

Fernando grins at the challenge and shrugs. “I guess you'll have to see for yourself. On a good day, they might be persuaded to give a discount. You know the owner's son, after all.”

 

Isco snorts and shakes his head. “I'll only come if you show 'The Seven-”

 

“Fer!”

 

Fernando has just enough time to turn around before Sergio's daughter reaches him and jumps into his arms like a cat. A cat with grass in her hair and soil crumbs all over her dress, that is. He picks her up with an exaggerated 'oof' and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Look who it is: the muddy princess,” Fernando exclaims and earns himself a giggle. “Seriously, darling, what will Isco think of you?”

 

Isco is startled out of his passive watching with the sudden inclusion and he needs a second to come up with a reply. “Uh... I will... I still think you're a pretty girl.”

 

Inwardly, he cringes, but it seems to be the right thing to say, because her triumphant smile could blind anyone. “See?” She extends her tiny hand. “I'm Adelina, by the way. My friends call me Lina.”

 

Overwhelmed by her infectious mirth, he can't help but smile as he shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you, Adelina. I'm Isco.”

 

Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “Is that your real name?” He shakes his head. “Will you tell me what it is?”

 

“No.” He grins at her sudden pout. “You'll laugh at me.”

 

Her eyes widen as she presses a hand to her chest. “Nooo, I swear, I won't.”

 

He decides to tease her a bit longer. “I don't think I want to risk it.”

 

“But-”

 

“Darling, leave him be, okay? If he doesn't want to share, you shouldn't pry.”

 

“Okay. Sorry, da.” She locks eyes with Isco, and he immediately feels bad for his joke when he sees the sincere regret there. “I'm sorry, Isco.”

 

“It's fine.”

 

He is all prepared to confess his name to make her smile again, but Fernando diverts her attention with another kiss before he can open his mouth and then sets her down. “Now, you go and say good-bye to everyone and then it will be home and bed, okay? You've got swimming lessons tomorrow morning.”

 

Her pout is still in place, but she nonetheless sighs in defeat. “Okay. Bye, Isco.”

 

“Bye, Adelina.”

 

“Oh, and Lina?”

 

She turns back to Fernando, impatiently bouncing on her feet as the prospect of playing for another ten minutes is on the line. “Yes, da?”

 

“Could you please tell Marcelo? He promised to take us back again.”

 

“Marcelo?” Fábio's wife, Andreia, appears in the doorway just as Adelina skips out into the hall. “Here you are. I was wondering where you two'd gone off to. But Marcelo won't go anywhere, Fernando. He definitely drank too much to be driving himself tonight.”

 

Fernando's shoulders slump. “Oh, great.” He sighs and fishes for his phone in his jeans pocket. “Would you be so kind and give me the number of the nearest taxi company then?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Well, or you could-” Isco trails off when both of them turn to him, Andreia questioning and Fernando kind of hopeful. “I could drop you off...? I mean, we're living in the same neighbourhood, right?”

 

Fernando hesitates, even though he's clearly relieved. “Are you sure?”

 

Am I? I don't know. “Yeah. I was gonna go home soon anyway. It's no hassle.”

 

“Alright.” Andreia turns to her fridge to hide her smile, but Isco can see it in the reflective metal surface and wonders what the hell it is about. “That's settled then.”

 

“Thanks, Isco.” Fernando gives him a smile and a nod. “I'll go and get Adelina, okay?”

 

“Sure. I'm gonna wait in the car.”

 

 

— † —

 

 

The silence is uncomfortable for him, but he puts his best effort into not showing it. Adelina dropped off as soon as Fernando sat her down in the booster seat they'd borrowed from Fábio and fastened the seatbelt around her. Apart from a few words about his current radio station, he hasn't talked to Fernando, either, so the silence is the perfect opportunity for his mind to freak out. First and foremost, the question 'What in God's name are you doing?!' is going round in circles in his head, and dear Lord, he doesn't know. He has no idea how he went from reforging the bond between himself and his team to befriending Sergio's husband.

 

But you're only taking him home, his mind argues, no need to flip out! As long as he keeps his fingers to himself... Mortified, he closes his eyes for a second at the sudden thought and shame spreads hot and piercing through his body. Fernando doesn't seem like the kind of guy to go about feeling people up. But Sergio does?, his mind throws back at him. Annoyed at himself, he exhales loudly.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He starts in surprise when Fernando suddenly abandons watching the shrubbery next to the highway fly by and turns to him instead. For a moment, he's afraid that he might've guessed his thoughts, but that is a ridiculous notion, of course. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

 

Fernando doesn't even frown at his aggressive tone (must be his experience with child tantrums...?). “I know this is not easy for you.”

 

His voice is even, as is the look he's giving him, and somehow, that sets Isco off. “How can you be so calm about this?”

 

“Isco... what have you done that should make me angry?”

 

He has to fight hard to stay focused on driving, because he can't believe Fernando could be so naïve. Or clueless. “Are you serious? Didn't Sergio tell you what happened in training?”

 

“Listen.” Fernando sits up straight in his seat and his voice suddenly has a slight edge to it. “I've had my fair share of hate and I know what it looks like. Believe me, _this isn't it!”_

 

“But-”

 

“From my experience,” Fernando begins as if he hadn't spoken, “there are three types of reactions. One: they don't care at all. Two: they shy away, because they don't know anything about homosexuality but the ridiculous tales that somehow can't be killed even in the 21st century. And three: they don't know anything, either, but they _despise_ you for it and they certainly don't hesitate to show you just how much.”

 

As a few tense seconds tick by, Isco grips the steering wheel hard, for he suddenly feels physically sick. It isn't so much what Fernando has said, but what he didn't say. “I'm sorry,” he forces out, but he doesn't even know for what. For every injustice that had happened to Fernando? For hurting his husband? For every stupid gay joke he ever made or laughed at? Now that he's thinking about it, maybe all three combined.

 

“It's okay.” Fernando's voice has already lost the bitterness underlying his outburst and is back to its usual calm. “There's hope for you yet.”

 

The hint of a smile is already there in his voice, and the kind tone makes Isco feel even more guilty. It does make sense though, he ponders, as a laid-back and patient character is probably the only way to balance Sergio's famous temper. “I mean it.”

 

“I know. And I appreciate that.”

 

“But ignorance is no excuse.”

 

“No. But you stopped being ignorant after checking me out at the football match.”

 

Isco jerks so violently he almost swerves off the road. He isn't sure what is more mortifying: that Fernando noticed or that he made it sound like he- He doesn't even want to finish that thought as his cheeks burn as if on fire. “Oh God, please don't call it that!” Fernando's chuckle is quiet so as not to wake Adelina, but that doesn't mean it's less annoying. “Jesus Christ, stop it.”

 

“How would you call it then?”

 

He tries hard to keep a serious face, but it's impossible. He just can't help but grin. “Academic interest.”

 

Fernando snorts and clamps a hand over his mouth, and his shaking shoulders are the only thing that shows he's laughing. “Academic interest, my ass.”

 

“No swearing in front of Ade-”

 

He cuts himself off when he notices a set of headlights in the rearview mirror that comes way too close for his taste. He barely has time to consider tapping on the breaks to encourage the other driver to overtake them before he's doing just that. It takes Isco a split-second to realize he's still too close to his own car, but he can't even finish that thought. He feels the jolt all through his body as the other car grazes his hatch and in his shock, he's not fast enough to even out the sudden lurch. The hood of his car crashes into the wall lining the highway and the last thing he feels is gravity giving out.

 

 

— † —

 

 

His whole body hurts. It feels like he's been beaten up by some angry away fans, and especially his back and his elbows seem to have taken some serious knocks. There's also a burning sensation over his left brow that is very uncomfortable, and the pain only intensifies when someone starts prodding at it. _What the hell?_

 

He starts and rips open his eyes, but screws them shut again a millisecond later, because the bright light overhead stings painfully in his eyes and makes them tear up immediately. “What...?”

 

“Mr. Alarcón, can you hear me?”

 

He blinks like a sleepy owl and stares up at the man in a white uniform that's looming over him. “What the-”

 

“You've been involved in a car accident.” Isco blinks again as he tries to focus on his words, and only then does he take in his surroundings. They're in the back of an ambulance, and through the open doors he can see people in uniforms – paramedics, firefighters and police alike – milling about and shouting to each other. “You must feel sore, but apart from a gash on your forehead, you seem to be fine.” The medic leans forward to resume cleaning the wound. “Does anything else hurt? Can you see fine? Do you feel funny?”

 

“No, I feel fine,” he murmurs and hisses when the antiseptic makes his eyes water again. Something is missing, though, he thinks. There is something he should ask, should know. “What happened?”

 

“Apparently, there's been a collision that caused your car to hit the crash barrier and then to flip. You're lucky you got away with a gash.”

 

Isco mutely nods his head. Yes, he's the one who's been lucky. But who else is there? “Fernando,” he suddenly remembers. “Adelina!” He pushes himself up onto the edge of the bed and forces the medic to take a step back. “Are they okay? Where are they?”

 

“Hey, take it easy!” He raises his hands to calm him down. “They're in good hands, and I need to finish cleaning your wound!”

 

But Isco is already up on his feet. For a moment, he sways a bit as his head needs a second to catch up, but then he ducks out of the reach of the paramedic and jumps out of the ambulance. The first thing he sees is a fire truck pulling a car from the shrubbery and he immediately recognizes it as his own. The sight of the bent and torn apart shape, gleaming in the flashing lights, makes his stomach churn, but he doesn't stop to take a closer look. There are two other ambulances, and he heads straight for them before a shout makes him pause.

 

“Isco!”

 

He whips around and immediately spots Adelina standing only a few feet away. She quickly pulls away from the police officer that is holding her hand and tears through the chaos of people to jump into his arms.

 

“Thank God! You okay?” He can feel her nod against his neck. “Where's Fernando? Where is your da?”

 

She pulls back to look at him, and there are tears falling from her reddened eyes. “I don't- They won't let me-” She stops and her eyes grow wide. “You're bleeding!”

 

Now that she mentioned it, he can actually feel the blood trickling down his temple, but he decides that it isn't important in the least. “It's okay. It doesn't hurt. They won't let you what?”

 

Adelina bites her lip and her grip on his shoulders tightens. “They won't let me go to him!”

 

“Are you the driver?”

 

Isco turns to the police officer who has finally caught up with his charge. “Yes. I'm friends with her stepfather. Is he... Is he badly hurt?”

 

The officer gives a tiny shrug. “They believe there's some internal damage and they're trying to stabilise him for transport. It's likely he'll have to go straight to surgery.”

 

Isco can feel his blood run cold as Adelina sobs quietly against his neck. “Where is he?”

 

The officer points at one of the ambulances. “That one. The other driver is in the second. He looked pretty beat-up.”

 

He can feel a surge of white-hot anger shoot through his veins at the mention of the asshole that hit them, but he ruthlessly squashes it. There'll be time for that later. “Thanks. I'll see if I can get more information.”

 

The officer shrugs again, and Isco frowns at his indifference. He's probably been numbed by his job already. He certainly looks old enough. “They'll want to take you to hospital as well, though, to do some check-ups. And we've got some questions, too, of course.”

 

Isco almost rolls his eyes. “I won't run away.” He takes a few steps away from the officer and towards the ambulance, but then he suddenly has to stop and take a deep breath as the reality of what happened finally catches up with him. “Shit...! I'm so sorry, for everything.”

 

Adelina doesn't react, unable to comprehend and take in what he said. The world starts moving around him, even though he's standing stock-still, but her arms around his neck ground and remind him that he can't lose his nerve now. So he shakes his head to clear his mind and tightens his embrace around her as he approaches one of the medics standing next to the ambulance and clears his throat. Before he can address him, though, the back door opens and another paramedic leans out and taps his colleague on the shoulder.

 

“We're good to go.”

 

Shit. “No, wait!” They both turn to him and he rushes forward. “That's my friend in there, and this is his daughter. Can we see him? Please?”

 

The medics exchange a glance, but then the obviously higher-ranking of them leans down from the back door and gently pats Adelina's head. “He's stable now, but time is of the essence here, little one. He was responsive for a short amount of time, though, so he knows you're okay. He also asked me to tell his big girl to look after Isco. Can you do that?” Isco can feel Adelina tense, clearly debating whether to put up a fuss or not, but then she simply nods. “Good. That's all I can say for now. We gotta go.”

 

As he trudges back the way he came, a silently crying Adelina in his arms, he very much feels like crying, too. If something were to happen to Fernando... It doesn't matter that it wasn't his fault, he'd never forgive himself. And Sergio would kill him anyway. That thought stops him mid-step. _Sergio!_ He quickly shifts Adelina's weight to one hip and dugs for his phone in his pocket. He logs in and swears loudly when his battery sign immediately starts blinking red. Better be quick then. However, it's only when he's already rummaging around his phone book that he suddenly remembers that he doesn't have Sergio's number.

 

 

— † —

 

 

“What...?”

 

“Iker!”

 

He must sound as panicky as he feels, because his captain suddenly sounds decidedly more awake and also decidedly less grumpy. “Who-” There's a rustling sound and a pause during which he can practically hear Iker check the caller ID. “Isco? Is that you? What happened?”

 

“I...” God, where to start? “I went to Fábio's party, and Fernando and Adelina were there, too. But Marcelo, he wanted to take them home, and he drank too much, so I offered to drop them off. And then some... _dork_ hit my car and... Fernando will have to go into surgery at-” He leans forward to shout at the officers in the front seats. “Which hospital?”

 

“La Paz.”

 

“At La Paz, and I have no idea how he is and what the problem is and- shit, Iker, I don't have Sergio's number!”

 

For a second, there's only quiet breathing as Iker tries to process the flood of words. “Okay. But Lina and you are okay?”

 

He looks down at Adelina, strapped in next to him in the back of a police car, her small body curled into his side as the shock and exhaustion finally take their toll. “Yes, we're fine.”

 

Iker hums. “Good. Listen, we're out visiting Sara's parents, but I'll come over. I can be there in about... two and a half hours, okay?”

 

“No!” Isco winces when he hears Sara's confused and sleepy voice in the background, obviously asking what's wrong. “No. You don't have to. Just... You stay with your family. I got it. I won't let her out of my sight, I promise.”

 

“Isco, it's not that I don't think you could-”

 

“I know.” There's no time for that discussion now. “Really, I do. But Sergio needs to know what happened!”

 

“Of course. I'll call him.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

He hangs up and watches with a dark frown how the screen of his phone flickers and then dies. Great. Could this day get any worse?

 

 

— † —

 

 

As a matter of fact, it could. First of all, they had to wait nearly two hours until they were called up in the emergency unit. The police took advantage of that in order to ask what felt like a thousand questions, most of them unnecessary in Isco's opinion. Then a middle-aged nurse with a stern brow – it was obviously close to the end of her shift, because she already looked tired and annoyed – attempted to separate them and send Adelina to the children's unit. It took ten minutes of arguing and the grown-up equivalent of a hissy fit from Isco before she threw up her hands in surrender and herded them both into her office to properly check them for after-effects of the accident.

 

He only gets a bit of prodding at his gash and a plaster for his troubles, but Adelina is examined more thoroughly. That's fine by Isco, but he watches her worriedly nonetheless. The little girl is so tired out from all the stress and the worry that she can barely keep her eyes open through the process, and he's afraid she might pass out any second.

 

“Okay, done.”

 

Adelina immediately lights up at the prospect of getting out of there. “Can we go see Fer now?”

 

The nurse raises an eyebrow and turns to Isco for an explanation, and he swallows his disdain and clears his throat instead. “Her stepfather. He went into surgery as soon as we arrived.”

 

Her eyes briefly fill with sympathy as she turns to Adelina, but then she blinks and it is gone. “No, not yet. I have to send for someone from the X-ray unit to come get you.”

 

Adelina's shoulders slump and she looks like she might cry again, so Isco quickly pulls her up onto his lap as the nurse picks up the phone to call her colleague. “They just take a few pictures to see if we're okay on the inside, too. It'll go by in no time, you'll see.”

 

She nods and leans her head against his shoulder. “I know.”

 

“You do? How?”

 

She just shrugs, clearly unwilling to answer. Isco wonders what it means, but he decides not to push her. He tries to remember everything Sergio told them about his daughter in training, but he doesn't come up with anything. He's sure he would remember if the little girl had ever broken anything.

 

“I've seen it done when my mum was in hospital. And my grandparents, too.”

 

Isco blinks and tries to catch a glimpse at her face, but she won't look at him. “They were ill?”

 

“Mum was.” Her voice gives out and he tightens his hold around her as he can feel her fighting for breath. “But my grandparents... they told me they were just old, that it was normal.”

 

So that's how Sergio came to know about his daughter in the first place. Everything makes sense now. A strong feeling of sympathy overcomes him and he awkwardly rubs soothing circles into her back as words elude him for a moment. With a sudden clarity, he realizes how little he actually knows about Sergio, and he wonders if he'd already been with Fernando when he found out he had a daughter. Probably, seeing that they came out – already married, no less – so soon after Sergio had adopted Adelina.

 

Isco looks up when the nurse finishes the call. “Do you know if her stepfather's husband has called? A friend promised to tell him what happened, but I don't know if he got through.”

 

She absently shakes her head, busy with some papers on her desk, but then she stops mid-motion and looks up at him with her eyes wide and disbelieving. “His _husband?”_

 

“Yes...?”

 

He cringes when his voice comes out more challenging than planned. She doesn't reply, though, and quickly looks back down, but she isn't fast enough to hide the grimace distorting her face. Isco frowns as he experiences his own reaction first-hand – being confronted so directly and bluntly with a perfect mirror suddenly, and surprisingly, hurts. Adelina seems to pick up on the tension that is suddenly hovering in the air, but she's too young to understand what's going on, so she only looks back and forth between them in confusion, trying to determine what changed.

 

The nurse returns her questioning gaze with a calculating look that suddenly gives way to recognition – and to pity. “You're the girl of that gay footballer, aren't you?” When Adelina gives her a puzzled nod, she sighs. “Poor sweetie.”

 

Isco bristles and sits up straight, ready to defend his teammate, but before he can open his mouth, the door to the office opens to reveal a young nurse. Oblivious to the argument that was about to erupt, she gives them all a bright smile. “So... who needs a picture of their intestines?”

 

It takes a second for him to return the smile and reply in an even voice. “I'm afraid we do.”

 

“Alright.” She offers her hand to Adelina. “I'm Sofí, nice to meet you.”

 

“Adelina.”

 

“What a beautiful name.” She straightens back up and motions to the door. “Shall we?”

 

Adelina looks up at Isco, clearly waiting for his consent, and he quickly swallows the guilt that simple motion calls up. He doesn't deserve her complete trust. “Go on.” He gently sets her down and smiles again at the young nurse. “I'll catch up with you.”

 

He waits until their chatter has faded down the hall before he turns back to the head nurse. “Now, for your information, she couldn't wish for a better life.” Her eyes darken and she looks ready to argue, but he quickly raises a hand to stop her. This won't undo what you did, his mind whispers at him. Shut up, he retorts, I've been idle long enough. “She doesn't have it easy, but no children of celebrities do. It's a safe and loving home that counts, and I've never seen anyone more devoted to that than her fathers. If you'd see them with her just once, you wouldn't doubt that!”

 

He doesn't even wait for an answer as he storms out of the room and hurries down the corridor to catch up with Adelina and her guide who are waiting for him at an open elevator door. The nurse raises an eyebrow at his angry expression while Adelina immediately reaches for his hand to soothe him, and he takes it without thinking and motions for them to go in. He can practically feel their curious gazes on him as he stares at the elevator wall, but he doesn't give an explanation. He isn't even sure he could.

 

 

— † —

 

 

The silence in the room is close to unbearable. He's been through with his X-ray procedure for he doesn't know how long, but he does know that he's been sitting here in this small empty room with its three chairs and the small grey table for quite a while now, waiting for Adelina to finish hers. It's the first time in many hours that it's quiet enough for him to get his thoughts in order.

 

He doesn't know what possessed him to deliver that speech in defence of Sergio and his family, when only two days prior he would've said the exact same thing – or rather, thought, seeing that he wouldn't have been stupid enough to say it out loud. Maybe it was hope for absolution, maybe guilt, or maybe it was because he's started to care, for Adelina first and foremost. Definitely the latter, maybe all three put together. Life has a weird way of dealing out retribution, he thinks, and he wonders where his path might've lead if he hadn't gone to that party.

 

It seems a lifetime ago that he stood on the patio of Fábio's house, watching and analysing Sergio's husband, who was nothing like he had imagined. It's like the memories are not his own, like he's watching some character in a redemption movie. He always laughed about those flicks where people turn from assholes to goody two shoes in the span of ninety minutes. All it usually takes is an extraordinary event that makes them see their wrongdoings and turns them from bully to benefactor. So far, so unrealistic. Or so he thought, until he stumbled into his very own redemption movie, complete with his very own extraordinary event.

 

He buries his head in his hands as, for the first time, he realizes how close they all came to dying. If he'd been going a tiny bit faster, if that bloody idiot had been a tiny bit closer, if his car had hit the crash barrier again while flipping off the road... Not to mention all the what ifs. What if Fernando doesn't make it? What if he will be handicapped in any way? What if Sergio will blame him for what happened?

 

“Mr. Alarcón?”

 

He looks up to find the young nurse in the doorway, with a radiant smile on her face. What... “Yes?”

 

“I managed to get hold of a friend who works in OR, and she told me that the surgery on your friend was successful.”

 

It takes a moment for the information to sink in, but then Isco falls back into his chair in relief. “Oh, thank God! What was it?”

 

Her smile falls and she sends a look over her shoulder into the hall before walking over and sitting down next to him. “I'm sorry, but I can't tell you since you're no family. But I can say he's sleeping now and will make a full recovery.”

 

Isco exhales in a rush and nods in understanding. _Full recovery_. That's the most important part. “What about his husband? Did he call?”

 

“He took the first available flight back. But he didn't know when he'd arrive.”

 

“Good.” Only one question left. “Can we see him?”

 

She once again looks at the door and the hall beyond, as if her supervisor might appear there any second. “Same thing. Strictly speaking, only she can.” She hesitates for a moment. “But since she's so small and I don't want to leave her alone there, especially without knowing when her father will be here, I think I might... smuggle you in. Besides, she seems to trust you.”

 

Yeah, because she doesn't know what I did, Isco thinks darkly. “Thank you so much. I appreciate that.”

 

She raises a hand to quell his gratefulness. “But I need you to take this seriously. If they found out I let you in, this might have serious consequences for me.”

 

“I understand. I mean, I don't even know your full name, right?”

 

She laughs and then gets up. “Nice try. I'll go see if Adelina is good to go.”

 

He gives her a smile, but it fades as soon as she's out the door. He needs to see that Fernando is okay just as much as he doesn't want to face him. What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger, he tells himself. Until Sergio comes in through the door, that is.

 

Awesome.

 

 

— † —

 

 

Fernando has pale skin by nature, of course, but under the dim, yet unforgiving cold hospital light, it makes him look like a ghost while his freckles stand out like splatters of paint on a white canvas. It doesn't help that he's curled up on his side like he's trying to ward off an invisible attack – all in all, he looks young and fragile and (even though Isco doesn't want to think it) close to dying.

 

When the nurse quietly ushers them in through the door, neither of them are prepared for this sight, and Adelina's hold on his hand tightens immediately. Isco tears his gaze away from Fernando and quickly crouches down next to her. “It's okay. You can go to him.”

 

He looks up at Sofí for confirmation and she nods. “Just be careful, okay?”

 

Adelina doesn't move, though, and when she turns to him, he can see tears gathering in her eyes. “Is... is he going to die?”

 

“No!” He clamps his mouth shut, surprised about his own outburst, but a quick glance over at Fernando tells him he didn't stir. “No,” he repeats again in a whisper. “He'll have to take it easy for a while, but he'll be back to normal in no time, you'll see.”

 

For a moment, she studies his face in search of any sugarcoating. He calmly returns her gaze, and he can see the exact moment when her fear turns to bravery. The steely determination that appears in her eyes instantly reminds him of Sergio, and it leaves him speechless for a moment as he watches her walk over the bed.

 

She slowly raises a hand and he can't help but hold his breath as her fingertips connect with Fernando's pale face. He doesn't know why, but that little touch is enough to relax her tense shoulders, and she exhales her breath in one big rush. If it's because Fernando's skin isn't as cold as she feared or if it's the fact that he's real and not actually a ghost, Isco will never know. Either way, he can only breathe again when she finally leans forward and gives Fernando a gentle kiss onto his forehead.

 

“Fer, it's me. Lina.”

 

For a few long seconds, nothing happens, but then a small smile pulls at Fernando's mouth. “Hey, darling.”

 

His voice is slurring and it's clear how much effort he has to put into those two words, but the effect on his daughter is instantaneous. With a sound that is half laughter, half sob, she climbs onto the covers and wraps her arms around him. Fernando returns the embrace and slowly and carefully pulls her close as the tears finally force their way out and her body is wrecked with muffled sobs.

 

“Dad promised,” she forces out around the hiccups, and Isco has to strain his ears to understand what she's saying. “He promised you wouldn't leave me too!”

 

Fernando sighs and presses a kiss to her hair. “And I won't. We won't.”

 

A hand at his elbow startles Isco out of his reverie. He turns to Sofí, and her expression holds the same mixture of sadness and sympathy he himself is feeling. She motions towards the door and he nods before looking back at Adelina and Fernando. Finally reunited, they are completely oblivious to the world outside each other, simply revelling in the fact that they are both okay.

 

With a relieved sigh, he follows Sofí out into the hall, but leaves the door ajar, just in case. The smile she gives him is small, but fond and he can't help but blush. Damn, he wishes his recently found confidence on the pitch would finally transfer into the real world.

 

“After all she's lost, I'm glad she found a new home and people that care about her. And I'm glad she found a friend in you.” She leans forward as if to share a secret. “On the way to the elevator, she kept telling me what a great guy you are and that I should give you a chance.” She chuckles softly, and fortunately, it distracts him from being too embarrassed. Until she continues, that is. “Did you teach her to say that to every woman she meets?”

 

“No!” That little devil. On second thought, maybe he should thank her. “No, I actually didn't have the time. We... we met only hours ago.”

 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” Now it's her turn to blush, but he finds he rather likes it on her, despite the awkward moment. “You seemed so close, and I just assumed...” She trails off, unsure.

 

He clears his throat and shrugs. “It does feel like I've known her for longer than that. But I guess a situation like this can do that to you.” Among other things. “And I owe her father.” Big time. “Besides, she's quite the sweet kid, right? It's impossible not to like her.”

 

Sofí smiles again. “True.” She looks like she wants to add something else, but then her pager goes off and she sighs instead. “Okay. I have to go back to work. It was nice meeting you.”

 

“You too.” He watches her smile sadly and turn away, and his mind screams at him to do something, _anything._ It sounds suspiciously like Adelina. “Hey, listen. Ahm...” He hesitates when she turns back to him with a curious, but also hopeful expression. “I was wondering... When does your shift end? Because... I wanted to ask if... you'd care for a cup of coffee?”

 

 

— † —

 

 

Isco checks his watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes, but the hands just don't want to move any quicker. It's already half past three in the morning, and though he should be after the day he's had, he isn't tired one bit. There's too much going on in his head, the same thoughts going round and round.

 

Come to think of it, it doesn't seem too far-fetched to believe he and Adelina were particularly close and Sofí certainly wasn't too far off target. He has indeed become quite fond of the little girl and her kind and bubbly personality, and protective too – up to the point where he, ever anxious not to upset the balance of authoritative hierarchy, put his foot down in front of paramedics, police officers _and_ head nurses (maybe a piece of cake for a spitfire like Sergio, but for him, it's a huge feat). All to ensure he could keep an eye on her, like he had promised Fernando in his mind.

 

So yes, he's feeling pretty close to her, even though he knows she probably stuck to him only because he was the only one she knew in the emotional mayhem that followed the accident. Also, with defending him against her curiosity and letting him (attempt to) take them home, Fernando has shown him trust his daughter is only mirroring now. It's a sad realization, and also startling in its depressing intensity, but he's a grown-up (if barely) professional and he's sure he can deal with it. After all, leaving and getting left behind is day-to-day business in the football trade.

 

“Isco?”

 

His head snaps up at the intrusion into his musings and in the dim night light, he can see Adelina sitting up, rubbing at her bleary eyes. “I'm here. What's up? Do you need anything?”

 

“'M fine. Can't you sleep?”

 

He can't suppress a smile at the concern in her voice. “I'm not tired. Besides, I gotta watch over you and your da until Sergio arrives.”

 

She carefully slides over the edge of the bed so as not to disturb Fernando in his sleep and pads over to him. Her nose almost touches the glass as she rests her forearms on the window sill so she can look out over the many lights of Madrid. All of a sudden, she seems too old for her age, miles ahead of the laughing girl he saw in Fábio's garden, and he wonders what she already had to endure in her short life.

 

“When you were gone with Sofí, Fer told me to thank you.”

 

He smiles gently and tilts his head. “For what?”

 

She turns to him, returning the smile, and there's a lot of mischief in there. “For taking care of me. But he also told me I did a great job of taking care of you.”

 

The pride in her voice is unmistakable and he can't help but chuckle softly. “Yeah, indeed, you did. I didn't even thank you for that, did I?” She shakes her head and grins. Following an impulse, he leans forward in his chair and offers her his hand. “Well then, let's make it official.” With a giggle, she pulls away from the window sill and shakes his hand. “Thank you, Miss Ramos, for saving my life out there.”

 

Adelina frowns, though the grin doesn't waver. “Don't be silly, I didn't save your life!”

 

“Oh yes, Adelina, you did.”

 

“You can call me Lina.”

 

Inwardly, he jumps with glee (and how pathetic is that for a twenty-two year old _goddamn famous_ footballer), but he can't help but make sure. “I thought that was for friends only.”

 

Her eyes grow comically wide. “But you are my friend!” She hesitates for a second as she peers at his face. “Aren't you?”

 

“I am!” He even gathers the courage to tweak her nose, and she snorts in indignation and swats at his fingers. “I am, if you want to.”

 

She nods as she turns back to window. “Yeah, I want that.”

 

They share a grin and for a while, they watch the lights of the city flicker and twinkle in silence, the occasional sound of footsteps in the hall the only noise in the room. And little by little, Isco can feel his fluttering mind come to rest, lulled into contentment by the steady sound of their breathing and the muted, distant hustle of Madrid. And all of a sudden, Isco feels ready for anything, even-

 

The sound of the lock turning rips him out of his mental shoulder-patting, and as soon as he comes face to face with Sergio, all of his newly built courage is gone. His teammate is still wearing the suit he obviously wore for the charity event, and his usually tan skin is as worryingly pale as Fernando's. It's clear how tense he is in the way he moves, and Isco isn't sure how to address him without setting off an explosion.

 

Adelina, however, doesn't hesitate and crosses the room with a few flying steps. “Dad!”

 

Sergio scoops her up into his arms with a relieved laugh, and Isco has to avoid his eyes as the two cling to one another, exchanging kisses and muttered words of affection. They only stop when Fernando also stirs and groggily blinks up at his husband who immediately bends down to run a hand over his hair and give him a short, but heartfelt kiss.

 

“Hey,” Sergio whispers, and Isco has never heard him speak in such a gentle and low voice. “How do you feel?”

 

Fernando gives him a crooked smile. “Like I've been in a car accident.”

 

Sergio shakes his head, but can't help a grin. “Okay.” He kisses him again. “Sleep. I'll take over from here.” His husband nods once, and his eyes immediately slide shut again as he relaxes back into the pillows. Sergio turns to his daughter and eases her down onto the bed. “Lina, why don't you keep an eye on your da and I'll talk to Isco for a second?”

 

“Okay, dad.”

 

“Thank you, darling.”

 

“Don't break him,” Fernando murmurs, already half-asleep, even as he pulls Adelina back into his arms.

 

Isco, meanwhile, has exhausted all possible escape routes and decided to yield to his fate, whatever it may be. But as Sergio straightens up and, for the first time, really _looks_ at him, he can't help but repeatedly wish for the ground to swallow him up. Again, he is acutely aware of how physically inferior he is to his teammate, and if the dark look in Sergio's eyes is anything to go by, this tiny detail might matter.

 

Nonetheless, he hangs his head and follows Sergio down the hall and through the door that leads to the staircase. “Sergio, listen-”

 

That's all he gets out before his back meets the wall with a painful thud and his breath is forced out of his lungs. “You little bugger,” Sergio hisses and pins him to the concrete with his forearm. The look he gives him is absolutely murderous and Isco wonders if anyone would hear him cry for help. “What the fuck are you up to?!”

 

“Nothing! I just-”

 

“You just what? You know, if you got a problem with me, okay, I can deal with that. But no one messes with my family!”

 

“Now wait a minute!” Isco musters all of his strength to push Sergio away from him and draw himself up straight. “Have you lost your mind? I didn't mess- I just wanted to help, okay? I didn't _plan_ for that asshole to hit my car! Do you think I'd still be here if I did? And why would anyone even come up with such a dimwitted plan?!”

 

Sergio eyes him up wearily, and his body is still tense and ready to smash him back into the wall. “Why _are_ you still here?”

 

Isco raises a hand to rub at his forehead where he can feel a massive headache building. “I couldn't just leave her there, could I? The accident wasn't my fault, but I still felt responsible for them. Besides, Fernando is... quite alright.”

 

Sergio bares his teeth in a venomous sneer. “For a queer, you mean.”

 

“No!” He closes his eyes for a moment as the headache becomes unbearable and he curses himself for the thoughtless appendix. “Yes. Maybe. Shit, I don't know.”

 

He isn't stupid. He knows that the images of homosexuality in his head have been planted there by hideous tales from the 80s and the jurors of contemporary model casting shows. He knew that even before Sergio turned out to be _one of them_. He also knows that in caring for Adelina, he started caring for Fernando too, and that in that case, the fact that Fernando was gay and married to Sergio didn't matter one bit. What he doesn't know is why, when it comes to Sergio – someone he's known for far longer (and never had any problems with) – it still matters. Or mattered. Does it still matter? He has no answer to that question, so in the end, he settles for the one thing that has been on his mind for the last few endless hours.

 

“I'm sorry.” Sergio narrows his eyes, but nonetheless tilts his head, silently prompting him to continue. “For everything, basically. But most of all for... for what I said in training.”

 

He can see it in Sergio's dark eyes that he isn't entirely convinced, that he's turning his words over in his head and searching for the weak spot – or, to put it bluntly, the lie. “Two days are a short time for such a change of heart.”

 

Isco shrugs and leans back against the wall as finally, bone-deep exhaustion catches up with him and he suddenly feels like he's going to fall over any second. “I know.”

 

Sergio plants his hands on his hips and his whole body screams barely controlled anger. It's the same stance he adopts whenever he receives a yellow card for a foul which – in his opinion – wasn't even a foul to begin with, and Isco can feel his own back straighten again as he watches for any signs of another physical attack. “Listen, I have _no idea_ where that stupid prejudice came from, but being gay doesn't mean fucking around! I'm just as faithful as I'd be if I were straight. Luka, or Iker... they don't look twice at the women in our staff, do they? Now why the hell would _I_ go around feeling up my teammates?!”

 

He pulls both his hands through his hair and makes it stick up in all directions. It gives him a ridiculous look, but Isco doesn't laugh, because the situation is anything but funny. Besides, it makes him look wild and dangerous, too, and as long as he isn't sure he's out of the woods yet, there's no need to rile him up even more. But then again, it feels like Sergio's anger is directed at an invisible audience rather than him alone, an audience whom he wanted to tell all those things ages ago. And he probably did.

 

Sergio's hands fall back to his sides and it seems as if all his rage is spent, because now he only looks tired and resigned. “You met Fernando, right? And you saw what a wonderful, and kind, and just... gorgeous man he is, didn't you?” The pause that follows is long enough for Isco to understand he's expected to react, so he nods hesitantly, not sure where this is going. “After hiding who I really am all my life, _he_ was the one worth coming out for, so why would I ever look past him?”

 

Isco quickly drops his gaze. Now that he didn't expect. It makes him feel even worse, if that was even possible. “Shit, Sergio-” He stops, unsure how to go on. What is he supposed to say to that? “I really _am_ sorry.”

 

They're caught in a stalemate, and they both know it. They're stuck in a situation neither of them wants to be in and neither of them knows how to solve it. There are a few seconds of silence where they try to think of the next step, of how to go on without either completely forgiving on Sergio's part and destroying his chances of rescuing the relationship with his teammate – as strictly professional as it may be – on Isco's. So when the door to the stairwell opens to reveal Sofí's friendly face, Isco could collapse in relief right on the spot. She's dressed in street clothes now, and surprise spreads on her face as soon as she sees him.

 

“Here you are. I thought you wanted to wait for me at the vending-” She trails off and her eyes widen as she realizes he's not alone and who exactly is with him. Isco is also sure she immediately picked up on the tensions still running high in the air. “I... Is this a bad time?”

 

Are you kidding – you're my saviour, Isco wants to say, but that certainly wouldn't help his case, so he decides to fall back on manners instead. “Sergio, this is Sofí. She took good care of Adelina and me. Sofí, this is Sergio, Adelina's father.”

 

Isco thinks it's marvellous how she ignores Sergio's still stormy brow and casually extends her hand as if she were talking to a new patient instead of one of the most famous footballers in the world. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Ramos. You have a wonderful daughter, she's a real gem.”

 

It's obvious Sergio tries hard, but in the end, he can neither suppress the smile nor the pride in his voice. “I know, thank you.”

 

Sofí easily smiles back. “You know, I would consider hiring Isco here for babysitting duty. The two of them were inseparable.” Isco makes a grimace at her to make her stop, but she isn't to be deterred, neither by his facial acrobatics nor by Sergio's dark frown. “He even stood up to the head nurse, and let me tell you, she's a dragon, not to be messed with.”

 

Sergio raises an eyebrow, but Isco can see he's curious. “Did he now?”

 

Sofí chuckles, wilfully oblivious to his tense tone. “Yes. Marched right up to her and said 'You wouldn't be so ignorant if you saw how devoted her fathers are to her!'. It's about time someone did that.”

 

For a moment, Sergio doesn't reply. There are still traces of anger in his eyes as he watches Isco, but his body is decidedly more relaxed than mere minutes before. “It seems like I underestimated you, Isco.”

 

He shrugs awkwardly, again unsure what to reply, but Sofí rescues him once again. “So... if you two are finished, what about that coffee you promised me?”

 

As relieved as he is about that question, Isco could also scream in frustration when a knowing – and on top of that, _amused_ – smirk spreads on Sergio's face. He'll never live that one down, he's sure of it. “Well, I don't want to keep you.”

 

Sofí extends her hand and he quickly shakes it. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Ramos. I hope your husband will make a swift recovery.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Isco watches the exchange with a queasy feeling spreading in his stomach. He isn't sure what to say to Sergio, apart from offering his apologies (which he already did, and he still doesn't know whether they're accepted or rejected), so he says nothing and follows Sofí past Sergio and down the stairs. A sudden thought, however, makes him pause.

 

“Could you please tell Adelina that my name is Francisco Román?” He shrugs when Sergio raises an eyebrow. “She'll know.”

 

A small smile spreads on Sergio's face and Isco can breathe a bit easier. “I'll pass it on.”

 

Isco nods and returns the hesitant smile, but he doesn't reply and turns back to stairwell. They have barely made it down the first one and a half flights when Sergio calls him back again. “Oh, and Isco?”

 

He leans over the railing and finds the defender grinning down at him. “What?”

 

“She gets quite attached to people she likes. Don't disappoint her.”

 

Isco shakes his head in disbelief. “Go back to your family, Sergio.”

 

But as he keeps on skipping down the stairs, he allows himself a smile. He won't.

 

 

— † —

 

 

Thank you very much for reading! *bows*

**Author's Note:**

> Borrowed the title from the amazing Muse song.


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